


A Remedy of Remus (or, How Sirius Black Recovered From His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

by KatScratches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, PWP, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatScratches/pseuds/KatScratches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius has had a Very Bad Day. Remus helps him to forget about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Remedy of Remus (or, How Sirius Black Recovered From His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2005 or thereabouts.

**A Remedy of Remus (or, How Sirius Black Recovered From His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)**

 

Of course, it _would_ be raining.

Three minutes into the twelve-and-a-half it took Sirius Black to trudge home from work, he was well and thoroughly drenched. The pelting rain had slicked his thick black hair flat against his skull, and cold drops of it trickled down the back of his neck. Of _course_ it would rain, after being perfectly sunny the entire day while he’d been holed up in that awful Muggle shop. Of _course_ it would rain, as if the heavens themselves knew that the stitching of his very-nearly-new-okay-secondhand motorcycle boots was loose, causing them to leak abominably. Worse, he’d been stuck working all day with that odious Squib Edmund (or possibly Edward) Something-Or-Other, who thought it was quite a great joke that an ex-son and heir of the illustrious House of Black was reduced to toiling in a Muggle cheese shop for meager wages.

Truth be told, Sirius didn’t much care that, in retaliation for his running away two years before, his parents had pettily made it virtually impossible for him to get a decent wizarding job after leaving Hogwarts. _After all_ , he reasoned, _at least I’m no longer under their roof… and their thumb._ The cheese shop (Sirius quite liked cheese) had seemed novel and charming at first, and recklessly Sirius had wheedled the owner into hiring him. It was only a short walk, too, from work to home, ideal as the often-busy street made it nearly impossible to find a safe place for Apparition.

By his third day on the job, Sirius had decided that perhaps he didn’t like cheese quite so much after all.

By the time he received his first paycheck, he _hated_ it.

Hunching his shoulders forward slightly, Sirius heaved a deep sigh and plodded up the cracked concrete walkway that led up to a squalid grey building. Some years ago, the bricks had been painted a pristine and sparkling white, and the concrete path had been bordered by low-growing flowers. Then the owners had divided it up into a half dozen cramped flats, and the building had slowly fallen into disrepair. Just inside the double front doors there hung a large picture of the building in its earlier days. Sirius often would pause at it, trying to reconcile in his mind the welcoming white bricks in the picture with the scaly, peeling greyish paint outside.

 _Horrid day,_ Sirius grumbled to himself, shaking rainwater out of his eyes and heading up to the third-floor flat that he shared with Remus Lupin. Ducking his head, he pulled his t-shirt up over his nose and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, for the narrow and uneven stairwell always carried a strong underlying odour of mould and urine. There was no lift.

Sirius felt in his pockets for the clumsy Muggle keys that Remus insisted they use (“I know magic is easier, Sirius, but what if someone saw?”) as he reached the top of the evil-smelling stairway. There was a brief moment of panic as the key refused to turn in the finicky lock, until Sirius remembered there was a trick to it. You had to insert the key all the way, jiggle the handle, pull the key back out only slightly, then turn it very fast all the way to the right, all the while pulling the door handle towards you. And then, the door would hopefully swing gracefully open.

Sirius’s key snapped in the lock.

He stared at it dumbly for a moment, his mouth hanging open in a perfect O of surprise. Then his eyes hardened, and with a muffled curse he kicked the door heavily with one booted foot. It swung open easily on its hinges, apparently not locked at all.

“Remus?” he yelled, kicking the ( _stupid bloody sodding_ ) door closed behind him. “You home?” Silly question, really; Remus was almost always home. Unable to find work in the wizarding world – no one wanted to hire a werewolf -- he hadn’t had much luck with Muggle establishments either, only managing to find a short succession of temporary jobs.

Kicking off his sodden boots, Sirius surveyed the dim hallway, listening carefully. Nothing. Not a peep. Wait – faint mutterings came from the kitchen, and with a weak grin Sirius headed towards them.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad flat, especially considering the cheap rent and the dismal, unkempt air of the building. The narrow hallway divided the flat neatly in half. On one side was a small room they had furnished with a secondhand sofa that was almost comfortable. (“We can call this the lounge, Remus!” “Sirius, this isn’t _loungeable_.”) Remus had lined one wall with shelves, gradually filling them with books on all manner of subject both Muggle and Wizard. They’d also managed to procure a small Muggle television set, which fascinated Sirius to no end.

On the opposite side of the hall was a miniscule bathroom with cracked tile and an oddly-stained but comfortable bathtub that sat upon little clawed feet. Sirius loved the tub, but wished Remus would let him charm it to walk around. (“What’s it got feet for then, eh Remus?”) The toilet was a bit unnerving, as it occasionally flushed itself, and the pipes rattled and banged so often and noisily that they were never sure if it was due to air in the pipes or a ghoul. Sirius opted for the ghoul; he thought it gave the flat more character. (“Look, Remus, we could call it Snivellus. He was pretty ghoulish, right?”)

At the back were the lone bedroom and the kitchen. The bedroom was surprisingly large, dominated by an enormous cast-iron bed with a badly sagging mattress. Quite often Remus would abruptly awaken to find himself flailing and trapped under a snoring Sirius who’d rolled atop him in his sleep. A wardrobe in one corner had been magically enlarged inside to house all of their clothing (Sirius was a bit of a clotheshorse), as well as an assortment of rather ill-matched Quidditch equipment, crumpled Chocolate Frog cards, and other sundry items (Remus was a notorious pack rat).

The kitchen was really the best part of the flat. Although the large windows were streaked on the outside with grime and badly hung, they still admitted a wonderful amount of light, making the kitchen comparatively bright and cheery. The many cupboards were deep and spacious, and it was here that Sirius finally found Remus, halfway up a stepladder and muttering absently to himself.

And, Merlin’s balls, he was wearing _the_ trousers.

Remus had bought The Trousers in London the summer between Fourth and Fifth year, a simple, understated pair in soft ecru cotton. He’d worn them for the first time on the train back to Hogwarts that September, and Sirius had joked that it was a good thing that Remus had been made Prefect, because The Trousers certainly looked as though they belonged on one. But Remus loved them, and wore them often, even to Hogsmeade in the depths of winter.

By Sixth year, Remus had shot up another two inches in height, and the much-loved Trousers had become faded and thin, the cotton wearing to an ethereal softness. They had become, of course, far too small to wear to Hogsmeade, but Remus still wore them around the dorm. He had once confessed to Sirius that they were so comfortable that he almost felt like he was wearing nothing at all.

Sirius liked them too, but for vastly different reasons. Although Remus remained lanky as ever as he grew taller, The Trousers clung to him like a second skin, cupping the twin curves of his arse so lovingly that Sirius was almost jealous. In places the cloth had nearly been worn away through use, and occasionally Sirius caught glimpses of Remus’s fair skin beneath. Yes, Sirius most certainly liked The Trousers.

And Remus was wearing them now. Sirius forced himself to bite back a groan as Remus stretched further into the cupboard, standing almost on his toes to reach the back. It wasn’t fair, Sirius decided, that Remus had such a delectable arse, shaped so enticingly that Sirius had to quickly shove his own hands deep into the pockets of his own trousers to keep from grabbing it. He lounged against the doorframe and tried very hard to look nonchalant.

 _Clingfilm. Those things have got to be made out of bloody Muggle clingfilm._

Sirius swallowed hard, shifting from foot to foot. His own trousers suddenly felt much too small in certain places.

“I’m home,” he announced, forcing himself away from the doorframe and into the kitchen.

Remus, who’d been so involved in his task that he’d failed to notice Sirius’s arrival, let out a surprised squawk and toppled off the stepladder.

Sirius leaned nonchalantly against the counter, trying to ignore the fact that he was still soaking wet and smelled of spoiled cheese. “You’ve got cobwebs in your hair,” he informed Remus, reaching down with one hand to help the other man to his feet. He plucked a particularly lengthy one out of Remus’s hair and held it at arms’ length. “Do we by any chance have an Acromantula in the house?”

“Not that I’ve found,” Remus replied. “What happened to you? Why are you all wet? And what’s that awful smell? Is… is that _you?_ Because it’s bloody noxious.”

“What smell?” Sirius asked innocently. “And of course I’m wet. Bloody raining, innit?”

Remus turned to the windows, squinting slightly in the flood of late-spring sunlight. “No.”

Sirius shook his head. “It figures,” he sighed. “Want to hear about my rotten day?”

“Nope,” said Remus cheerily, and laughed outright at the confusion that crossed Sirius’s face. “Of course I do, you great git,” he soothed, “and when you’re done we’ll see if I can’t make you forget about it.”

“I doubt it,” Sirius said morosely. “Do we have any firewhisky left or did Prongs nab it all the last time he was over?”

Remus motioned towards the cupboards. “Sure. Right there in the F’s.”

“The what?” Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The F’s,” Remus repeated. “You’ll find it right between the fennel and the fish food.”

Sirius shook his head in amazement at the neat, orderly, and apparently alphabetically-organized shelves. “Moony, you have _got_ to get out more,” he said, finding the ¾ empty bottle exactly where Remus had said. As he raised it to his lips, he paused, brow furrowed. “Wait… _fish_ food? Remus, we don’t have a fish.”

“Yes we do.”

“No, Moony, I’d remember a fish. I’m certain of it.”

Remus pointed towards the corner of the long countertop. Sure enough, a stout glass bowl perched there, a fat goldfish swimming lazily within it. It looked largely unimpressed with its surroundings. “The Muggles across the hall moved out, and asked me to take it.”

“So now we have a fish.”

“We do indeed,” Remus agreed, wrinkling his nose. “Sirius, that smell is _terrible_. Come on, out of those wet clothes.”

Sirius, who was easily distracted, ignored him, wandering over to the fishbowl and leaning over to peer at the fish. “Hello, fishy,” he cooed. It merely goggled at him. “Hello, little fishy…”

“Sirius,” Remus said patiently, “you _reek_.”

“Hello, little wanker fishy… Remus,” Sirius complained, “it doesn’t _do_ anything. Make it do something.”

Remus shrugged. “Can’t help you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind…?” He gestured towards the hall.

“Right,” said Sirius, wrinkling his nose as he hauled his sodden shirt over his head. Remus was right; the smell emanating from it was truly indescribable. “Bloody Muggles,” he continued, wrestling with his trouser buttons as he followed Remus into the bathroom. “What’s so great about electricity, I’d like to know. One of the … y’know, the cold things…”

“Refrigerators,” Remus supplied, kneeling next to the tub. The pipes shrieked and rattled as he turned the faucets on, making them both wince.

Sirius nodded vigorously. “Yeah, those. They don’t half work, d’you know that? And everything in the broken one rotted, and that wanker Squib… What’s ‘is name? Edmund… Edward? Made me clean it out. _Completely_ disgusting.”

“Edgar.”

“What?”

Remus looked over his shoulder at Sirius, one hand trailing in the tub water. “His name’s Edgar, and I’d lay odds he smells a sight better than you do right now. Why do you, of all people, still have your trousers on?”

“They won’t … _argh!_ … unbutton… There we go!” Sirius said triumphantly, as the buttons popped off and rolled, one by one, into a crack in the floorboards. Sirius was not surprised to see them go. Sighing, he padded naked over to the tub and eased himself into the steaming water.

“Comfy?” Remus asked. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he unbuttoned his thin shirt, folding it absently before placing it on the closed toilet lid.

Sirius nodded blissfully, eyes half-closed among the wisps of steam rising from the water. “Very,” he mumbled.

“Budge up, then,” Remus chided as he shimmied out of his own trousers. ( _How did he manage that?_ Sirius wondered. _They had to be bloody painted on_.) Sirius obliged, sitting up slightly and edging forward in the tub. Remus deftly stepped in behind him, a soft hiss escaping him as he entered the water. “Hot,” he muttered. “You okay? Not too hot for you?”

Sirius slid back against him, his head lolling back as he relaxed against Remus’s chest. “Nah, ‘s good. Feels good.” He twisted slightly to accommodate Remus as he arranged his long, slender legs alongside Sirius’ own. _You feel good,_ Sirius thought, and his cock gave an agreeable twitch.

Remus leaned forward until his lips were barely touching the back of Sirius’ neck. “Still grumpy, I imagine?” he whispered, watching as his breath ruffled the fine hairs there.

“Yeah,” mumbled Sirius, although he was now anything but. “Had a horrible day. Rotten.”

With soapy hands Remus began to rhythmically knead Sirius’s shoulders, working patiently to undo the knotted tension. A self-satisfied smile flitted across his lips as Sirius’s muscles began, finally, to loosen. Remus added a bit more pressure, circling with his thumbs as he went, working his way gradually down Sirius’s back, causing him to let out an almost imperceptible moan.

“Like that, do you?” Remus said. He rested his fingertips lightly atop Sirius’s hipbones. “Pass the soap, would you? I’ll do your back.”

Sirius knelt forwards, reaching for the bar of soap and a flannel, which were resting in a neat pile by the faucets. He handed them back to Remus. His cock, whose interest had flagged when Sirius had been distracted by the fish, bobbed with renewed enthusiasm.

“No,” Remus said, as Sirius made to sit back down in the steaming water. “Stay on your knees. I like you on your knees.”

Sirius stayed where he was, knees pressed awkwardly against the unyielding porcelain. A shiver coursed through him despite the water’s heat.

Remus soaped the flannel generously, pausing to place the soap precariously on the edge of the tub. Rising gracefully to his knees, he ran the flannel leisurely up Sirius’s back and along his shoulders, noting with satisfaction how Sirius’s muscles bunched and trembled under his ministrations. With maddening deliberation, he dragged the cloth over the curve of Sirius’ arse, sliding deft fingers into the cleft there almost as an afterthought. Sirius groaned aloud, his body sagging bonelessly into the water.

“On your knees, I said,” Remus commanded. “Do I have to repeat myself, Sirius?”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Tub’s slippery.”

Remus moved forwards until he was pressed slickly against Sirius, cock to arse, reaching around with the flannel to wash Sirius’ chest. He ran the flannel across Sirius’s sensitive nipples, sliding the rough cloth over them til they stood out in hard little peaks. Sirius’ breath hitched in short, hard gasps. “ _Moony_ ,” he groaned.

“I’ve got you,” Remus said, and stroked the flannel firmly around Sirius’s weeping cock. Sirius whimpered, his muscles taut again with want as Remus’ cloth-covered hand slid around his balls and down to his upper thighs. Then suddenly the hand was gone, and Sirius whimpered again at the loss, but Remus shushed him, one finger held firmly against Sirius’s trembling lips. “Have to rinse you, y’know,” Remus said. “I’m not licking up soap.”

With the same maddening slowness, Remus scooped water up in both his hands, rinsing the soap suds from Sirius’s body. Three handfuls, four… Sirius lost count. Six, seven…

“Turn around,” Remus said suddenly, and Sirius hastened to comply. Remus leaned forward, taking a deep, appreciative sniff. “Much better,” he said. “Now you smell like my Padfoot. _Much_ better.” He drew Sirius to him, one hand entwined in the damp black hair, and flicked his tongue along the line of Sirius’ jaw. Sirius moaned, turning his head so that their lips met. His cock jerked against Remus’s, and he moaned again as the kiss deepened, their tongues entwined.

Slowly Remus leaned Sirius backwards until the other man was balanced awkwardly on the heels of his hands, his back arched and his cock risen free from the water.

“Al right there, Padfoot?” Remus asked.

Sirius nodded wordlessly.

“All right, then,” Remus said, and bent to take Sirius in his mouth. Lazily he laved it for long minutes from base to tip, swirling his tongue in slow circles around the sensitive head. With one hand he cupped Sirius’s heavy balls, massaging them gently, until Sirius thought he might possibly go mad from Remus’ teasing mouth. But as soon as Remus felt Sirius’s balls begin to tighten, he sat back, letting the man’s cock slide out of his mouth.

“Back on your knees,” Remus said, his voice husky with need. Absently he licked precome from his lips. Reaching up for the bottle of lotion that sat on the side of the sink (“Moony, are you _absolutely_ sure this stuff doesn’t make me smell like Evans?”), Remus slathered some onto his hand, taking his time to slide first one, then a second finger into Sirius’s puckered hole. He paused as Sirius reflexively thrust back onto his hand. “In a hurry?” he murmured. “Or do you just need to be fucked that badly?”

“Both,” Sirius blurted out, and immediately tensed; he hadn’t meant to say that. He groaned inwardly as Remus withdrew his fingers and stood up.

“You need to learn a bit of patience, don’t you, Sirius?” Remus commented as he stepped from the tub. Pulling a clean towel from the shelf, he began to briskly dry himself off. “And wash your hair while you’re in there. It’s still a bit, ah, fragrant.”

The moment Remus was out of the bathroom, Sirius ducked his head into the water to wet his hair. As he hastily scrubbed in some shampoo, he conceded that Remus was right; his hair really _did_ smell still of spoiled cheese. “Bloody Muggle elasticity,” he muttered aloud, rinsing the final suds of shampoo out and pulling the plug out of the drain.

“Electricity, you mean,” Remus said from the doorway. A tiny smile played across his lips as he admired the sleek, wet body before him.

Sirius stood up, water sloshing onto the floor as he clambered out of the tub. He was, Remus noticed smugly, still quite hard. He watched as Sirius, still silent, grabbed a towel and began drying himself off, angling himself in such a way that Remus couldn’t help but notice his erection. Occasionally he glanced over at Remus as he dragged the towel along his lithe body. Remus swallowed thickly, and admitted to himself that perhaps patience could be overrated.

“Sirius,” Remus said abruptly, “drop the towel.”

Sirius dropped the towel unceremoniously to the floor. “Drop _yours_ ,” he said cheekily.

In two steps Remus had crossed the bathroom, his own towel lying forgotten on the floor as he crushed Sirius’s lips to his, nipping at them with his teeth as he lowered Sirius to the floor. “I think,” he said hoarsely as he licked the water from Sirius’s skin, “that I’m quite done being patient.”

“ _Cold!_ ”Sirius gasped as his backside touched the chilly tiles.

Remus chuckled. “Turn over, then,” he said, and Sirius did. He was still slick inside with lotion from Remus’s earlier explorations, and forced himself to relax as Remus positioned his cockhead against Sirius’s entrance.

“Easy, Padfoot,” Remus crooned, skating his fingers lightly along the other man’s spine as he felt Sirius’s muscles clench involuntarily around him. He pushed in slowly, steadily. “Easy, now.” Fully immersed within Sirius, Remus leaned over him, licking at Sirius’s shoulder, caressing it with his tongue until he felt Sirius push back against him. Gradually he began to move, fucking Sirius with smooth, deep strokes as Sirius thrust back against him. One of Remus’s hands was splayed across the small of Sirius’s back, while the other had a firm grasp on his cock, stroking it with the same rhythm.

Remus pulled his cock out slightly and then thrust back in, harder this time, angling himself until he was rewarded with a whine of pure pleasure from Sirius. Oh, _oh_ , but Sirius was tight… His thrusts became quicker, fiercer, his breath coming in short hard pants as he felt himself coming closer to his climax. Beneath him, Sirius writhed, crying out Remus’s name as he came suddenly, messily, spurting over Remus’s hand. With a desperate groan, Remus let himself go, burying himself deep within Sirius as his orgasm washed over him.

Wincing, Remus pulled out, trailing soft, small kisses down Sirius’s spine as he did so. _Ow, my knees!_ he thought ruefully.

Beside him, Sirius rose unsteadily to his feet, grinning as he caught sight of Remus’s reflection in the mirror. “Cushioning Charm on the tiles next time?” he said.

Remus laughed, wrapping his arms around Sirius. “Yeah, I was just thinking that.”

 _My day,_ Sirius thought, _has improved immeasurably._


End file.
